


Third Birthday

by mcmachine



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: Anniversary, Child Death, Gen, Grieving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 15:02:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13661460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcmachine/pseuds/mcmachine
Summary: April has plenty of things to face in the wake of what should have been her baby boy's third birthday.





	Third Birthday

Everything hurts.

The hangover is a familiar one that I’ve woken up in the past few days, unsettled nausea threatening me with every time that I moved. This time, Vik’s not in my bed. The space around me is cold and empty, and somehow, it seems to match the void that was simultaneously filling and emptying out my head.

My head hurts, and all that it takes to remind myself of the fact is a slow blink of my eyes that triggers a throbbing in my temples. The dehydration certainly wasn’t helping my case, but neither was the light streaming in from half-open curtains into my bedroom. Drinking in excess hadn’t mattered last night with any consequence. I’d had today scheduled off of work for months, and Owen hadn’t had to ask me why. He knew how crazy I got around this time of the year because he’d been the only one with me during the past two anniversaries. The first time, in Jordan, the pain had been easy to bury with the constant need of a doctor’s hands. And the second, I’d been so pregnant with Harriet that I had buried all the need for mourning into celebrating the fact that he would be getting a little sister to watch over from Heaven soon.

But now, I have nothing.

Harriet was with Jackson again, and it seemed like another screw you from God himself, leaving me completely alone on today of all days. I don’t know if having her would have made things better or worse – either option seemed unfathomable. How could anything ease that kind of loss? And how could anything make it worse?

Of course, my mind was capable of coming up for answers to both questions now. That smile, her infectious bubbling laughter whenever I blew raspberries on her stomach… nothing could make my heart swell with happiness in the same way that she could. She was my sunshine, and I knew that I could never live without her. I knew that she was my entire purpose on this Earth, God or whatever other power was out there be damned. But in there, too, was a reminder of all the things that I never had with Samuel. I’d held him so gently, scared to do anything that would’ve risked causing more fractures to his tiny, weak skeleton. All I’d been able to do was sing and hold him, tell him that I love him. And then they took him from me. My last memory of him is a too small coffin. Nothing could ever fix the damage that had done to me.

Jordan certainly hadn’t, no matter how I’d try to play it off. It’d been a good distraction while it lasted, and then the fighting, the screaming, the divorce… as painful as it had been at the time, it’d been a good distraction too. Nothing wasn’t a distraction. Nothing was a reason to wallow and drown in wine glass after wine glass until I was too fucked up to be able to think of anything else.

That doesn’t sound like the worst plan for today, either. A small glance is given at my phone before getting out of bed, both unsurprised and annoyed at the plethora of messages waiting for me, not bothering to read through them and instead, skimming through the names. Mom, Dad, Kimmy, Jackson, Amelia… the last one was a little interesting given what I knew about her that I presumed no one else did, but I wasn’t prepared to get into that. Not today, not any day. Maybe she understood what it was like to lose a son far too soon in life, but our losses were different. We were too different, no matter how that connected us.

I drag myself out of bed and into the shower, taking my time and letting the steam build up until the point that I’m nearly uncomfortable with all of the heat. It’s a start at detoxing from the night before, even if it seems a little pointless. But there’s one thing that I want to do, one thing that I have to do, before I can throw away the rest of the day completely.

Little effort is made in getting myself ready, slipping into jeans and a blouse, red jacket and boots threw on over. I take the time to try my hair solely because of the cold weather outside, but let it fall in lifeless waves down my back. No makeup or jewelry is put on, barely remembering to grab my wallet along with my keys and toss it into the center console. 

Every year, I go to his grave. I used to go more right after he was born, but things changed with time. But today can’t be forgotten and I know that. No matter how much I hate the world, no matter how abandoned I felt by God, I couldn’t put the same burden on Samuel. Maybe there was no Heaven and he wasn’t up there watching me, maybe the pain that Jackson and I had gone through had been absolutely pointless. But maybe my doubts were wrong. And that tiny maybe for today was going to have to be enough. If Samuel was up there and watching me and the rest of his family, I wanted him to know that he was always there with me, always a part of my heart. I couldn’t let that be taken away from me too.

It’s a short drive to the cemetery. Even though it was closer to the apartment that Jackson and I used to share, the moves since had never displaced me very far from it or the hospital.

Normally when I go, I bring my Bible and read to him. A variety of passages had already been recited sitting by his headstone, the only place that I’ve really been able to feel connected with him since Jackson had taken down the nursery in our old apartment. Not that it mattered now, we’ve both moved on to different places, separate and distance. Today I’m empty-handed, but I don’t feel guilty about it. God had taken him from me. God hadn’t cared enough to intervene, not really. I’d thought so in the beginning, but looking back, it seems naive.

I’m surprised to see Jackson already there with Harriet. Even when I shouldn’t be.

I freeze in my spot, wondering if I should turn back around and come back later. It’s not a conversation that I want to have, and I feel like maybe I should have stopped to look at those texts on my phone before I’ve come here. But it’s too late – Harriet turns her head, and my secrecy is gone.

“Ma – ma! Mama!” The little girl all but screams at me.

Jackson turned his head to look at me, and I take a deep breath that’s quickly released with a sigh before forcing a smile. I can’t act completely unpleasant around him, not with Harriet there. I’m surprised that he’s brought her here on his own. I’d always thought that it was something the two of us would have done together, would’ve talked about together… but it makes sense that he’s had. We don’t really function on the same page anymore, not like we used to. I can’t be mad at him for it, even if it does make me feel a little excluded in my own daughter’s life.

“Hey,” he greeted me with a sad smile. “I guess we had the same idea.”

“Yeah, I guess we did…” I trailed off, taking a few steps forward. Harriet had been sitting on the ground previously, but I watch as she pushes herself up and stumbles toward me, a few proper steps being taken though she still waddles. She’d taken her first steps down in daycare. That’d been a hard day for the both of us. But that kind of difficulty paled in comparison to what we were both dealing with now.

I hope that my hangover isn’t as obvious as it felt like it was, giving a slight groan as I squat down to meet her and scoop her up into my arms lovingly. My nose rubbed against the top of her head, smelling her sweet curls. Jackson must have bathed her this morning. 

“Has Daddy been telling you about your big brother Samuel, and how much he loves you, nugget?” I don’t want to get emotional in front of him, it’s the absolute last thing that I want to do. But yet even the simplest of questions, relatively detached from the pain of the loss that we had gone through, and asked in that stupid, high baby voice… it’s enough to crack at my exterior. I can feel the tears burning in my eyes and know the there’s no amount of blinking that I can do to try and hide it from him. But if there’s any excuse for getting emotional in front of my ex-husband, it’s this one. At least there’s that.

“Yeah, she’s been hearing a bit about him.” Jackson wet his lips as he spoke. “She knows that Mommy and Daddy love him just as much as we love her. And that’s he watching over her just like we are.” For a brief moment, I’m glad that he isn’t religious like I was. I would have never said something like that while married, but some kind of comment about God looking out for him would have set me over the edge right now. I don’t need that in front of Harriet.

But I can’t handle this in front of Jackson right now, either. The tightness in my chest is more than enough indicator of that, and it’s getting harder and harder to breathe. I can’t have a nervous breakdown, not right now. Instead, attempting to get control of myself, I step closer to Jackson and hand him back over to her, ignoring the curious look that he gave me. He hasn’t noticed anything before today, why should he now?

I slowly get down on my knees next to his headstone, teeth digging into my lower lip so hard that it hurts in attempt to keep it from trembling. Keep it together, April. You can do this. “Hi, baby boy,” I whisper as I press my head against the cold stone for a moment. Some moss had begun to grow along the back of his, no doubt from the unkind weather that Seattle offered, and a paused for a moment as I picked it off and tossed it away. “Mommy misses you so much. Every day.” God, did I ache to hold him one last time, to kiss his sweet little forehead and hug him. My chest shook as I sucked in another deep breath, a stray tear managing to spill over despite all of my efforts to try and keep it under control. I rotate my head in the opposite direction of Jackson for a moment, unsure if he’s even watching me or allowing me to have a moment of privacy, and wipe away the tear as quickly as I can.

A few minutes pass and I just sit there, huddled up against his tombstone and remembering that day three years ago, all too clearly. If I think hard enough about it, I can nearly feel that phantom squeeze of my finger that he’d given me shortly before passing away. I’d always taken it as his silent way of saying that he loved me too as I cried, needing something to hold onto.

Jackson’s voice managed to draw me away from my thoughts after a while.

“Do you want to join us for lunch?” He suggested softly and I finally turned my head to look over and up at him, blinking in surprise. “Might be good for us, spend a little time together. I don’t think that you should be alone today.”

Had he just left it at the first part, there’s a good chance that I would have accepted the offer. My stomach had calmed down enough from nausea this morning that I could feel the empty ache of hunger inside of it, but of course, he had to say it like that. Like I’m some weak little girl who can’t handle sorrow, like I’m still the woman who’d sat in the chair in Samuel’s nursery for days and weeks, refusing to accept reality. Part of me felt like I was that. But I don’t want his pity. I don’t need his pity. And I certainly don’t need his condescension, either. I felt like I’d been doing good so far at keeping in check, but I knew that’d push me too far.

“No,” I finally answer and offer him no explanation.

“Oh. Do you have other plans?” Jackson suggested, fixing Harriet’s cap as he spoke.

“Nope,” my answer is equally short as it was the first time around, taking a deep breath as I push myself back onto my feet again. “I just don’t want to.” The words are a little harsh, but I don’t feel obligated to apologize for them in the slightest. Maybe I should, but at this point, I couldn’t be bothered with it.

“Everything alright?”

Now, I know the question is an innocent one, just trying to check in on me. It’s the one day of the year where I might be a little sympathetic to the inquiry given the significance that it held to the both of us, no matter whether we were together or the worst kind of divorced exes on the planet. Today, though, it feels like the latter even if its all in my head. He’d just been another way that God and the rest of the world had let me down, another failure, another memory of how everything that I fought for ending up biting me in the ass. And yet he stood there, so naive to everything going on inside of my head, some concerned furrow of his brow as he stared down at me. The unguarded expression is just enough to make me want to scream.

“Bad day to be asking that question, don’t you think?” I settle on the softest snap that I could manage, not wanting to get into it any further. It went so much deeper than just Samuel right now, even if that was just another thing that was trying to throw me into the deep end. The timing couldn’t have been worse, really.

But why should I tell him any of that? He’s not obligated to give a damn anymore, and I don’t want fake sympathy. I’d tried opening up to Arizona on a whim, and that’d get me shot down even harsher than before. The people that I was there for were always the same people who ended up kicking me to the curb. I don’t know why things always ended up so harshly in my favor, but I was tired of perpetuating the pattern even further. I couldn’t keep doing it to myself.

“Fair enough…” Jackson responded slowly, not losing his expression.

“I’m gonna go,” I announce without warning. I step forward toward him for the sake of pressing another kiss on top of Harriet’s head, inhaling that irresistible baby scent one more time and whispering to her how much I love and adore her before stepping away from my daughter and ex-husband. A forced smile is offered for only a brief moment. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow,” I mutter before turning away and walking off as quickly as I can.

A goodbye is called out after me, and I can hear him talking to Harriet and encouraging her to say goodbye. It brings a smile to my face for only a brief moment, but it falls just as quickly as the tears begin as I hurry to my car.

We were never going to have family outings, not in the way that we would have if Samuel had lived. Our entire lives would have been so different, so much happier. I would have never gone to Jordan, the divorce would never have happened... our babies would have grown up under one roof with parents who loved each other, they'd never have to one day question why they hadn't been enough to keep the family together. I knew all of the problems that could come up with divorced parents and I knew once I started noticing the signs in Harriet, I'd have no one to blame but myself. We'll never have any of those good, family things together. It'll be two of this, two of that, trading off constantly.

And I'll never have my son.

I'll never get to sing him a lullaby, encourage him to walk, teach him how to ride a bike. He'll never come crawling into my bed at night because he had a nightmare and doesn't want to sleep alone. I'll never hear him say mama, never hear him say that he loves me. He'll never get to fawn over his baby sister. There are so many things that won't happen all because of some stupid, terrible, genetic abnormality. How could I accept that as God's will?

When I'm alone in my car, I'm choking on my sobs. I can't stop them. I want nothing more than a bottle of wine or something even stronger at this point, and I certainly don't want to be alone. But even as I see Jackson and Harriet return to his car, I don't try to stop them from driving away. Because I am alone.

And so was Samuel. Alone on the other side.

Maybe we did somehow still share something.


End file.
